Here in This Diary
by EmeraldEyez1728
Summary: This is the diary of Lily Evans. 16 year old witch with a permanent stalker that just wont quit. Full of insanity, notes, and of course, the age old question: OI EVANS! GO OUT WITH ME OR I'LL HEX THIS FIRST YEAR! er age old demand, rather. Crack!fic.
1. Recognizing Toerag

**Here in this Diary**

Chapter one: In which Lily recognizes Toerag

Or In Which Breakfast Cereal is blamed for many happenings beyond it's control

So this is me. Hi. Lily Evans speaking.

What a suckish beginning for a diary entry. I am really beginning to question the whole concept of "diary entries". What do you want me to say? Sixteen years old, witch, live at my school (for the most part) and have a stalker.

You're giving me weird looks. Why stare at me like that? Oh the last part? Yes well get used to it because I don't think he's going anywhere any time soon.

His name is James Potter. James Tristan Potter. Known as Toerag. Why? Because that is what he IS. Alright, let me back up a bit.

1st year, I was new to the Wizarding world. New to everything about it, actually. I was lost on my way to class and I quite frankly did not know which way was up (I think I ended up somewhere on the fourth floor). A boy in my year with messy black hair that looked like it has not been introduced to a comb (this is Toerag, by the way) comes up behind me and asks if I need some help finding my classes. I, being young and naïve, gratefully accept.

Dumbass young eleven year old, I was.

He leads me through this passage on the fourth floor and goes "Almost there." (We'd been walking for a very long time) and so I nod and tell him that it was very nice of him to help me like this and I was so lost and I start going on and on. Stupid prick did NOT deserve that much appreciation. He just nods and pulls me into this passage. It's extremely dark now so he has to light his wand. I lost track of where we were and just trusted him.

This is the part where you mentally yell at me saying that I'm an idiot for trusting him. I have done that about a million times over my diary friend and I come to realize that this is where everything started. The whole Lily/James era began right here.

Not that I really consider us an "era". I don't even consider us an "us". I consider him a him and me a me.

That makes sense, I promise.

Anyway suddenly he goes "Knox" and puts out his wand. He touches something on the wall, mutters something else and he is able to go through the wall. On the way out he shouts "Bye Red Head!" and leaves me standing there.

In the dark.

With no way out.

And like any eleven year old, I don't think sensibly and light my wand. I just crouch there in the dark and cry.

For about four hours.

Then Filch the caretaker comes barging through. I mean, man on a mission or what? Well he's muttering something about the "God-damned marauders" and he's dragging that stupid cat along with him and the cat starts sniffing around. (Well I actually didn't know it was a cat. I didn't even know it was Filch. I had no idea who had entered the passageway, all I knew was that there was something extremely unrecognizable and wet sniffing at my leg.) In retrospect it was probably the cat's nose. However I did not stop to consider that possibility.

I scream.

Loud and long.

This freaks the cat out and she starts climbing up my leg (which gets scratched up and hurts like hell) and then onto my shirt and then up my arm on top of my head. So I'm trying to get this cat off of my head while screaming. I run around (because when you're being maliciously clawed to death by a cat in the dark, you don't really think straight), and I bang right into Filch who knocks us all to the ground.

Timber.

Then screaming like a maniac I fall right through the wall. You know, that wall that James jinxed open?...but forgot to close? Yeah well I didn't know either.

But while I've got this fur ball on top of my head and I've got Filch flying through the wall about to land right on top of me with his moth-eaten coat and everything (Who is by the way doing some slow motion Matrix-type move, so go ahead, ask me: blue or red?), all I can think about is _what a moron I am. I'm sitting about two feet from the exit all along because idiot Potter forgot to close it and I'm sitting inside this dark chamber, which for all I know could have rats inside (or Filch, but really what's the difference), for FOUR HOURS crying my eyes out until I swear my tear glands are dried up. _

Go ahead, laugh, I know you're dying to.

Alright that's enough.

Stupid Marlene HAD to get me a diary that actually "interacts" with me.

This defeats the whole point of spilling everything to you—you CANNOT talk back and tell me that I'm wrong.

Marlene is my best friend who happens to think that I need interaction with things that can tell me when I'm wrong and not respond to physical pain. She says this only because I spend half of our time complaining to her about what is wrong with my outfit or how I have a tiny problem that according to her I make into a "courtroom drama".

I'm throwing out that mirror, though. She got me a mirror that is charmed to rate your outfits. All it does is criticize me. I don't like that mirror.

It is currently laughing at my hairstyle.

I like my hairstyle.

Bite me, mirror.

So enough about Marlene. This diary, which clearly finds my eleven year old self amusing as anything and is taking advantage of my permission to laugh at my former self, was a gift from her. I shall inform her later about your slightly useless help on matters such as my childhood.

So anyway, it is five years later and Toerag decided that he's fallen in love with me sometime during this great gap of time.

I, on the other hand, have decided that he has no idea what "love" actually is.

I should probably tell you a little bit about Toerag. You see, James Tristan Potter is about 6 foot 1 with hair that never flattens (although he has an irritating habit of ruffling it, which doesn't help the unkempt look), has the biggest ego on the face of the earth, and thinks he can get anything he wants just by smiling his stupid lopsided grin.

Oh catch me, I think I'm in love.

God, you'd think that everyone would see it my way? But no. James Potter not only has everyone wrapped around his finger, he also has most of the TEACHERS eating out of the palm of his hand.

I mean really, is this guy boyfriend material or what?

Now you're looking at me like I'm not being sarcastic, which I promise you I was.

So anyway, back to today's events.

It started out as a normal, ordinary day. I woke up, found my favorite hair ribbon (that I had been searching for, so really it was a stroke of luck that I'd find it on the night-stand, you know, where it's supposed to be) and only had to yell at Marlene to get out of the bathroom for fifteen minutes instead of the usual thirty.

Actually, it started off as a pretty well-rounded day.

And then breakfast happened.

I know what you're thinking. _Is she scared of the toast monster?_ Well, no actually, that theory belongs to Leroy Lovegood, who does in fact believe in a monster lurking in the Hogwarts toast, put there by the imprisoned house elves who are trying to revolt and they want to plague us with this beast before they liberate.

Why are you looking at me like that? It's really not my theory.

Anyway so I sat down and got my usual—a piece of toast (you see? Not scared of the monster...sorta. Well? Anything's possible in a school full of magic, you know.), and some eggs (scrambled obviously).

Then, who happens to prance in, but Toerag.

He sits down with his usual crew of kids (the three boys that have christened themselves "Marauders". Can you stand it? They actually gave themselves a gang name. You'd think we were eight, not fifteen.)

So Toerag sits down with his sidekicks follow in suit. James starts to pour himself some cereal.

He starts talking to sidekicks numbers 1, 2 and 3. They're having a sort of group huddle in which they talk very animatedly in hushed tones. He kept sending me these odd looks. I was very tempted to flick him off after the seventh time.

Toerag says something to the other three and looked a bit unsure of himself. But Sirius (bum boy number one) pats Toerag on the back and says "Don't worry about it!" very loudly.

Well it had to be loud to reach my ears. I was on the other end of the table.

I should have known then to just walk out and not look back.

Curse my hunger.

So I go back to staring at my toast, wondering whether or not Leroy Lovegood was onto something with this whole toast conspiracy thing when suddenly I hear this loud crash.

When I look up, guess who jumped onto the table?

Yep. Toerag was kicking plates off the table and knocking goblets of water or some other substance (smuggled alcohol in the case of Oliver Welsby, the local drunk. The first step is admitting you have a problem, Ollie.) into people's laps. There were a few protests (mostly made by Victoria Page, a life-size Barbie doll if there ever was one.), but other than her the Great Hall was completely silent. Every eye was on James Tristan Potter.

He was strutting his way purposefully down the Gryffindor breakfast table. I was watching him too, just to see where he was headed and ready to catch my plate in case he decides to get clumsy around my food.

Well three guesses: where was Toerag headed to?

Indeed. The boy stops right in front of me, flashes everyone in the Hall one of his arrogant smiles, and winks down at me.

I look down and try not to gag on my half-eaten eggs.

He then leans down and grabs my glass of pumpkin juice and a spoon. He taps it sharply, so it makes a _clink-_ing noise. After he finishes having fun with the metal-on-metal contact, he throws the spoon over his shoulder, not caring that he hit a first year in the head. He then clears his throat importantly.

And all I can think is _please no speech. Please no speech. IF THERE IS A GOD DO NOT LET THIS BOY MAKE A SPEECH WHILST ON TOP OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE. _

"SPEECH!" Sirius Black shouts from the other end of the table.

I am becoming an atheist.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" James asks the Hall, as if he didn't already have it.

I miss my mouth with my fork and get a bunch of egg in my hair. I quickly try to comb it out with my fingers while I am watching Toerag make his speech.

"Today I stand before you all as just a mere mortal. A boy of fifteen. I most importantly am standing before the love of my life, Lily Ann Evans—"

"—my middle name is Marie." I interrupt, slightly annoyed. Honestly, if you're going to make a fool out of yourself, do it right.

James blanched, but continued. "And I am calling on you fine people to witness me in my declaration of love for Miss Lily Marie Evans."

Sirius slides a new spoon over to our end of the table (all of the available silverware and breakfast plates have been knocked off the table because of James' sudden impulse to do the catwalk during breakfast.) and shouts "Go on, Jamesy. And dude. Don't worry about it! She'll love you!"

I'm right here.

"She's right there." James points to me. I sink lower in my seat and I am pretty sure that I have blushed as red as possible.

"Oh, right—er—OY! EVANS! DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT! YOU'LL LOVE IT! IT WAS MY IDEA!"

I'll give him something to worry about.

So anyway, James picks up the spoon and puts it to his mouth like a—microphone? No. You're thinking that not even James Potter is that shameless.

You don't know how wrong you are.

He starts singing. To the tune of Frosty the Snowman.

"Evans, oh Evans! You're the apple of my eye!"

Lord help me

"With your bright red hair, you're a reason to stare, you know that I'm your guyyyyyy—"

The other three marauders have decided to become his backup singers. They jumped on the table and are now doing moves that I'm pretty sure they took out of a video somewhere.

"Evans, oh Evans! I would love to make a pass. We would get a bite to eat, maybe something sweet, then I'd grab your tight—"

"MR. POTTER!" McGonagall, who up until now was staying quiet and letting me endure this embarrassment, was on her feet. "GET DOWN FROM THERE!"

She was throwing disapproving looks at Dumbledore, who was next to her and was snorting from laughter into his breakfast.

Stupid old kook.

"Right-o, Minnie, just one second!" James called up to the teacher's table.

McGonagall closed her eyes and counted to ten, while taking deep and calming breaths.

"Evans, will you go out with meeeee?" James finished, in song no less. Sirius was singing falsetto.

I stood up silently, took up my pumpkin juice and threw it in his face.

Maybe Leroy's onto something. Except I blame the breakfast cereal.

My favorite hair ribbon that was found this morning—three sickles

Questionable eggs and toast—house elf labor

Serenaded by Potter at the breakfast table—a lifetime of embarrassment

Pumpkin juice in his face after humiliation—priceless.

**A/N: more to come, so what'd you think? I must acknowledge this boy that I know who says 'don't worry about it' so constantly he has infected everyone around him to start saying it. Anyway please review and 2nd entry will be up soon!**

**Emeraldeyez1728**


	2. Daydreams bring on bad things

**Entry Two: In which Lily Understands why Daydreaming is not good During a Test**

Or In Which Lily Discovers Doodling Can Give you Hallucinations about Penguins with Plans for World Domination 

Transfiguration. It started out like a normal class. You know, teachers, textbooks, waving of the wands and we're done, right?

Alright you're wrong so I shall not even bother to ask.

No you're wrong again.

Shut up you stupid interactive diary!

I'll never ask opinion questions again to things that are charmed into answering me.

That's right, apologize.

There we go. Anyway, today Transfiguration _should have been_ normal.

But it wasn't. Oh no it was not.

So we all filed in expecting another day of McGonagall lecturing us about proper wand movements and how we should all pay close attention because this will come up on the final exam and if you don't do it right, you can end up with the head of an eagle and the body of a llama.

Imagine what people would call you.

Llama-bird.

That sounds like some odd superhero.

"It's a bird--  
It's a plane—

Close, but NO! IT'S LLAMA-BIRD!

Dun dun dun DUNNN (cue theme music and man with deep voice that narrates practically everything seen on television) Llama-bird soaring high! To the rescue! Saving creatures of all kind! Born of some freak accident in the Hogwarts Transfiguration Classroom, Llama bird is dedicated to stopping evil of all sorts!"

Yeah, so really waving your wand the wrong way wouldn't be a bad thing. Think of all the benefits.

That's it, Lily, be an optimist.

Well, Transfiguration isn't one of my best classes, so it's possible that Llama-bird will result from my awful wand-waving action.

Toerag is amazing at Transfiguration.

He hardly ever opens a textbook.

I am working on the theory that he's a closet studier.

Well, it would make sense, wouldn't it? There could be no possible explanation other than that. Well pure talent maybe, but I don't feel like crediting Toerag with that.

Anyway, today McGonagall announced that she was giving us a test.

A test that I completely forgot to study for.

I looked around and I saw that the class silently put their books and papers underneath their desks. They groaned collectively and some of them mumbled rude things about McGonagall, but I can see that they're prepared.

This is a time where I have to ask myself one question:

I'm the only one who forgot to study?

_Are you kidding me! _

Wow, one really is the loneliest number.

She administers the test. God, I hate Transfiguration. It is just a mean subject. Plus, all this added pressure of getting it right. I'm pretty sure that the Ministry of Magic, who requires you to have a proper education, is in the wrong on this. First of all, have they ever heard of serendipity? Yes, well, that's when something good comes from something unexpected. That's how I discovered I could whistle. That's how Marlene McKinnon discovered that she could snap her fingers. That's how penicillin was made, for God's sake!

That's how llama-bird was created as well.

So in conclusion: serendipity—good; proper Transfiguration methods—bad.

What? I'm not crazy, my reality is simply different than yours is.

Alright, so I have a nasty little habit of twisting truth to fit my needs and manipulating people into being mistaken and misguided. It's a gift.

Well, I tried to concentrate. I really did! I mean, I have _never _failed. Not once. At _anything_! I promise you, this Transfiguration test will NOT BE MY DOWNFALL!

It might have been my downfall, though, just to put things in perspective.

So the first question. You can do it, Lily, think positive! What would llama-bird do?

Llama-bird would probably fly away because he is gifted with that unique ability, being half-bird. Damn the talent. He is envied.

Anyway, the first question was relatively easy. It was a review test of the past chapters, so I was doing alright.

And then, question thirteen came along.

There's this Hufflepuff, she's a year above me, and her name is…well the first name escapes me, but it's something Trelawney. While most people take Divination for an easy O, this nutter got really into it. I mean, _extremely into it. _

Apparently, there was Seer blood in her family line, so she's got some sort of knack for that branch of magic. She goes on and on about how people are doomed because of the planet positions, or how they should stay away from cake because their aura isn't cleansed properly and there's a good chance on choking on the treat.

She's in a league with Leroy Lovegood.

But there is one thing that I have to say for her. She's right on a rare occasion. Not a drop of Seer ability in her, but she has timing. Sometimes she randomly reveals unimportant facts about the future, and as fate would have it, they come true.

Well today she made a prediction for me about the number thirteen. She told me that the number of one tens and three ones (yes I had to count on my fingers too, it's nothing to be ashamed of) would pull me into distraction and I would get wildly sidetracked and forget what I was doing.

Of course, Marlene and my other friend Alice and her boyfriend Frank Longbottom were with me, so I was not sure at the time who she was predicting the future for.

I paid no attention and kept walking.

Well, what do you know? Question number thirteen was about owls. Specifically, the spell used to transform a fully grown owl back into a chick.

This got me thinking.

Never good.

So I started thinking about owl chicks. If you've ever seen an owl chick you would know what I mean when I say that they are little balls of fluff. Literally, just balls of fluff and eyes. One time on my way to the zoo, I saw an owl chick trying to poke through its shell. This was interesting to me because I was about eight at the time and I had never seen an owl before, let alone an owl chick. I made my dad stop walking (the zoo was about five minutes away from my house, so on nice days my dad would let us walk there instead of driving) and I pointed out the owls. I asked him if I could help the little chick poke through its eggshell, but my dad grabbed my hand and told me that it wasn't a good idea and that we should let it alone.

Then I started reflecting on the zoo. The zoo was always a family outing for us. My mom, dad, Petunia and I would go down to the zoo every weekend if it wasn't raining. We'd see all the animals. I remember one time when I was about four and Petunia was about six, she dared me to go into the Buffalo grazing tank. I wasn't stupid as a four year old. Even though I could easily squeeze through the bars, I wouldn't do that for a dare.

So she double-dared me.

And I went for that one.

So I squeezed between the bars, with my parents completely oblivious to it all. I was about five feet from one of the buffalo, who was giving me a very peeved look because I guess I intruded on his grazing, when my dad and mom finally realized their little redhead was wandering out into the disgruntled buffalo's territory.

So imagine it: there's Petunia, laughing hysterically, my mom freaking out because I am by a huge two ton buffalo that, if he chose to, could squash me with a hoof; and there's my dad shouting at me from about thirty feet away for me to come back. Then there are the tourists, who, if I had to guess, are really the ones pissing off the buffalo, because they're taking pictures of the whole thing and laughing merrily as if this is some great show.

But the real thing that ticked me off? I didn't get ice cream as punishment for my horrid, criminal, four year old actions.

It was a good trip.

But I remember the thing I loved most about the zoo. And that was the penguin tank.

These were some boring penguins. I mean, normal penguins are supposed to do more than just sit on their artificial blocks of ice, right? I mean, what ever happened to being the birds of the sea? But no, these penguins were frightfully dull. I suppose this is because they got bored of people pressing their ugly noses in on them while they're trying to have some of their penguin-fun.

Personally, I think that they are interesting, but when no one is looking. Which got me to wonder, what could they be doing while no one is around?

So I started to draw, on my test no less, what I thought the penguins were doing while the zoo closes at night.

Here are some options I've come up with:

1. The penguins are clubbing and chilling (haha no pun intended) with the other inhabitants of the zoo.

2. The penguins are working on some sort of plan for world domination while at said clubs.

3. The penguins have some sort of all-out rap battle.

4. About world domination plans that rhyme and have good beat to them

5. The penguins are plotting ways to escape the zoo

6. And take over the world

7. They are having intense Penguin Olympic-events

8. And the winner of the Penguin Olympics not only gets a shiny metal, but gets to take over the world

9. They're chilling with Llama-bird

10. --and are trying to find out his weakness because he is the only one that can stop their plans for WORLD DOMINATION

And just as I'm about to come up with option number eleven, McGonagall's crisp voice breaks my thoughts.

"Time's up."

"THE PENGUINS WANT DOMINATION!"

Only instead of proclaiming it in my head, I find myself standing up in my seat with twenty pairs of eyes on me. Including those of Minerva McGonagall.

Leroy Lovegood looks delighted with me. "Really? I ALWAYS thought it was the butterflies, but the penguins makes MUCH more sense!"

"Excuse her, Professor, she was—uh—put through a rough morning." Marlene McKinnon puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me back down. As if I'm her puppet, I oblige, blushing a thousand shades of red.

McGonagall takes a few steps towards me and I can feel my heart pounding through my ribcage. She turns my paper towards her and surveys it.

"O." she announces to the class.

"I got an 'O'?" I ask, bewildered.

"No, 'O' is the only letter that you put down before you went into a doodling rage."

"Lily, have you considered counseling lately?" Marlene asks me, her face contorted with concern.

"No, I—"

"Is that a bison you drew, Miss Evans?" McGonagall asks, pointing to my paper. I look over at it.

"No, that's Petunia. _That's_ the bison." I say, guiding her finger a little further up. I stop myself and turn to Marlene. "I'll consider the therapy."

**A/N: I would like to thank my brother, Ian. When I was about three and he was around four and a half, he gave me the adventure of a lifetime. Oh yes, children, the buffalo story was true life. Yay for mine and Ian's adventures with buffalo!**


	3. Hogsmeade brings on Knightmares

**In Which Hogsmeade Brings many Knightmares**

Or In Which Lily Discovers the Difference between Armor and Amour

So after my last entry I don't expect that you are gambling too much on my sanity.

Although, I have to say, it's against school rules to gamble on anything really so if you were I'd have to turn you in and keep the profits for myself as evidence.

I'm a school prefect, I can do that.

Now I suppose you're betting on whether or not I'd go through with that previously mentioned plan.

Why are you always gambling? What is it with you?

Perhaps you have a bit of a problem with gambling? Maybe you need therapy? It's alright to tell people about your therapeutic needs and this is why:

You should not be ashamed of telling someone you don't even know what you need and how you feel because that is, in fact, what therapy _is_. It's telling someone you don't know everything about yourself.

So you see, if you had an addiction to gambling, it would be alright to get therapy and tell everyone about said treatment if you wished.

But then again, maybe your case is so bad that you need to go to a gambling rehab center.

Whatever it is, I hope you seek help and everything works out for you.

I'm sending you my best regards. I'll even look into those twelve step programs for you.

Then again, there's always a thirteenth step when you're in one of those programs: Relapse.

Perhaps you need to hear about a sober-gambler's day? Maybe someone who doesn't gamble can encourage you to refrain from your addiction?

Well alright, if you insist, I'll ramble on about myself.

Today was Halloween, which also means that it was the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. Everyone was talking about the Zonko's products that they needed to get and how many wads of Droobles Best Chewing Gum they could stuff in their mouths once they got to Honeydukes. Marlene, Alice and I were all at the same table in the Great Hall discussing what we would do first once we got to Hogsmeade over breakfast.

"Just as long as we're at Madame Puddifoot's by five. I have to meet Frank there." Alice kept saying, eyeing us both as if we would intentionally try and make her late for Frank.

"Anyway, so should we stop at Three Broomsticks after Honeydukes, then?" Marlene asked counting the money in her satchel

"Nah, before would be better. I think I could use a Butterbeer." I absolutely have an obsession with Madame Rosmerta's Butterbeer. One time I went into Hog's Head by mistake (Third year of course, don't give me that look I'm not _that_ bad at directions. I don't regularly get mixed up about which secret passage to take so that Filch won't step on me or which pub to go in.) and after tasting Rosmerta's Butterbeer I thought that almost every single trace of Hog's Head would melt away.

It's just figuratively speaking, though. I still had the dirt on my hands from accidentally leaning on the counter . If you ever happen to stop by there, don't do that.

"We could do that, just as long as I'm back at Madam Puddifoot's by five. I don't want to be late for Frank." Alice repeated yet again.

"Alright well then it's set. We'll go into Zonko's—Lily don't look at me like that, we won't run into…what was it you called him?" Marlene asked me

"Toerag."

"Right, well we won't run into 'Toerag'—then we'll stop by the Postal Service because it'll be a convenient time for me to drop a letter to my brother John in Austria, head off to Helen's Handbags and Hats, then stop atThree Broomstick's. On the way back to the castle, we'll stop at Honeydukes and grab our normal helping fora sugar rush and call it a day." Marlene read our itinerary off of the napkin she had in front of her.

"Right, just as long as we're back by five. I have to meet—"

"Frank in Madam Puddifoot's, we know!" Marlene and I answered collectively.

"Just making a point." Alice said and turned back to her breakfast.

"Way to completely rub it in that I'm boyfriend-less." I mumbled to my toast. It was the only thing left on my plate as I was still unsure of the whole Leroy's-Theory-of-Revenge-Seeking-House-Elves.

"What's that I hear? Young Miss Evans doesn't have a date to Hogsmeade?" I turn around to see Toerag standing over me. Of all the Great Halls in the Castle, he _had_ to pick this one to eat breakfast at.

Actually to be truthful, there is only one Great Hall in the Castle. I suppose the founding fathers (and mothers to be fair to Helga and Rowena) had thought that having more than one Great Hall would be a bit cocky and maybe even lessen the significance of the first Great Hall.

They should install a second Great Hall. Who really cares if we're showing off and if the significance is lessened?

So anyway, he comes waltzing in (I was still recovering from the "Frosty the Snowman" incident that occurred only about a week and a half ago, so I was very cautious about how long I would stay in the Great Hall that time) and asks me that question.

"Piss off, Potter."

"Not so nice today, are we?"

As a matter of fact, I had had a rather crappy morning. You see, I woke up late, didn't get to take a shower; lost my favorite bracelet, found my favorite bracelet but lost my favorite necklace, and misplacedboth my favorite bracelet and my favorite ring whilstlooking for my favorite necklace. As if that wasn't enough bad luckfor a day,my book bag ripped open half way down the stairs and at the exact moment that I paused to clean up the mess, Robin and her boyfriend came up the girls staircase. This as everyone knows, causes the staircase to turn into a huge slide.

I'm still not completely comfortable sitting down.

"Piss off, Potter." Maybe if I repeat things he'll get the message.

"Well fine, don't take my invitation to Hogsmeade then."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"You know," He sat down next to me and grabbed a piece of French toast off my plate. "A lot of girls would give their right arm for an invite that you so brazenly take for granted every time I offer it up."

_Please let Leroy be correct about the House Elves wanting revenge by putting nasty substances in the toast._

I willed for him to choke on said toast.

Although, like I said, I was never good at Divination. But then again, I'm sure that that's not quality divination. That would be mind-control. Too bad they had to put the Imperius curse on the Unforgivable Curses list.

Perhaps Azkaban would be worth it? Nah, then I'd have to live there with those crappy Dementors knowing that I was sent here because of Potter.

And no one likes living with _that_.

"You know," I snatched the last bite of toast out of his hand and popped it into my mouth before he got a chance to protest. "I'm not like other girls then."

"No, you're a thousand times prettier."

"Cheesiest. Thing. Ever."

"Did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?" I thought he was referring to my fall down the staircase/slide this morning. Which raised the question:  
_HOW DOES HE KNOW?_

"When you fell from Heaven?"

"Ugh." Oh boy! Pick up lines! Yay! This is of course something that _every_ girl must endure while trying to eat the rest of their breakfast after an extremely trying morning.

You would have figured he'd embarrassed himself enough there, but no.

"Do you have a map, cus I'm lost in you're eyes."

"Potter—"

"Are you from Tennessee? Cus you're the only 10 I see."

"Stop with the bloody—"

"Do you have any glasses? I'm blinded by your beauty."

"Oh Dear God."

"Did you have Lucky Charms this morning, because you're looking magically delicious."

"That's a muggle line."

"Er—yeah, Remus taught me that one. What's it mean?"

Do you see what I have to deal with every morning? Every. Bloody. Morning.

Do you now understand the severity of this whole "I must stalk Lily until she finally says yes to me and I won't ever give up which means I will stalk her for the rest of my life and haunt her when I die", phase that Potter is going through?

THIS IS HOW SEVERE IT'S GETTING!

I AM NOT HAPPY!

"Well, Potter, why don't you just take one of those girls who are willing to donate their right arms to such a worthy cause?"

"Because what's the point of having a girl with no right arm? It's very unattractive, I can tell you." Toerag grabs a piece of toast off of Marlene's plate. She promptly smacks his wrist and he withdraws his greedy hand.

"That has got to be one of the shallowest things I've ever heard." I stand up and take the remaining piece of toast off of my plate (I saw him eyeing it with hunger) "and if you ask me, Potter, you should jump at the opportunity if a girl wants to go out with you because, armless or not, they must be experiencing temporary memory loss. No one in their right mind would ever want to go out with you."  
I leave looking fairly dignified.

Only when I'm outside the Hall do I pop the toast in my mouth. Eating during that speech would not be dignified at all.

So later we all go to Hogsmeade—the third years are trying to take in as much as their little eyes can handle, the fourth years are pretending they didn't act like that last year, the fifth years are talking about the attitude the fourth years seem to possess, and us sixth years are caught up in our own little worlds trying to digest everything that's happened to us so far in our year and don't care much about the lower years.

No one's ever really sure where the seventh years go. We're working on the theory that there's some underground club we don't know about.

So I was walking with Marlene and Alice towards Helen's Handbags and Hats (Marlene had taken at least an hour to decide which owl would deliver her letter fastest, so we were running a bit behind. Although whenever I have a particularly stressful morning, a decent purse normally cheers me up.)

"Hey Lily, I'm your knight-in-shining armor!" Marlene shoved a ridiculously oversized knight helmet over her curls. I laughed and threw another hat in her direction.

"Shut up. Why do they even have helmets like that in here?"

"Maybe Helen considers this…vintage chic. You know, like an antique in the hat-world."

Marlene took off the knight helmet and pulled on her curls making them bounce back into place.

"Well, at the rate that Potter's going, you're never going to find your little Prince Charming."

"Yeah, and he thinks I should just fall into his arms and thank him relentlessly for ruining what potential love-life I had at Hogwarts. All the guys in our year and above are scared to come near me for fear that Potter would go ape on them." I inspect a purse and toss it aside carelessly.

"That's just because he wants to be your knight in shining armor before anyone else fits the helmet. He needs to be the first one to try it on."

"He tried it on when he asked me out for the first time."

"Yeah and he hasn't stopped trying it on. Why do you think that is, Lily?" Marlene starts to twirl the knight helmet around her hand. It's so big that it swallows her hand and half of her arm. She looks as though she's being eaten by this helmet.

"Because he doesn't understand that I don't think it's something that he can grow into. He's missed that chance."

"Have you even given him that chance?" Marlene starts flipping the eye lid up and down on the helmet.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Yours. That's why I'm making you analyze this." She continues the flipping of the eye-piece thing.

"Yes." I say stubbornly.

"Lily."

"Fine, no. but does he deserve it?"

"Maybe he's trying to show you that he does. Maybe he's trying to grow into this helmet."

Marlene put the helmet down on top of the purse that I wanted to buy. I roll my eyes and take the helmet off it. I forget the helmet and decide that we're not to tell Alice—who was supposed to be with us in the Hat/purse place anyway but decided to ditch for fear of being late for Frank—the adventures with the knight helmet.

All was well.

Until Three Broomsticks.

"Special delivery for Miss Lily Evans." Sirius Black comes ambling over to mine and Marlene's table. He winks at Marlene and tells her she looks very attractive. Marlene almost douses him with Butterbeer.

"Sign here, Evans." Sirius holds out a clipboard with a piece of blank parchment on it.

"Where?"

Sirius looks down. He takes the quill from me, makes an X and a line that follows it then turns back to me.

"God, Evans, right where the X and the line are! I swear, if stupidity were the Olympics, you'd win a Nobel Prize." Sirius rolls his eyes.

How dare he call me stupid! Especially when he makes that analogy! It didn't even make sense! But I decided to be the bigger person and not respond to his taunting.

"I present to you, Miss Evans, your Knight in Shining Amour." Sirius holds out his hand and presents Toerag who is hobbling out of the Men's room dressed in full Knight armor. The helmet that Marlene picked up at Helen's Handbags and Hats was sitting on his head to complete the outfit.

I quirk my eyebrow, enjoying the fact that he bumped into 5—no 6 chairs while he was trying to make his way over to our table. Rosmerta, the barmaid, stopped drying the mug in her hand to watch with a look of bemusement.

"Young and fair Lady Evans, I come to thee fresh out of battle. A battle with my heart."

You have GOT to be kidding me.

"And I come to you with pure and noble intentions—"

Oh Lord, here we go.

"—I ask you, fair maiden to accompany me on a moonlight ride through Hogsmeade this Friday night. Your carriage awaits, but I wait longer in chivalrous intentions and elevated hopes. I must tell thee fair maiden, that I would wait till the earth's end for your response."

I'm fairly certain that I invented a new shade of red the way I was blushing. Out of embarrassment, not flattery, just get that straight.

That was by far the corniest thing I've ever had to sit through.

And one of the most embarrassing. This competes with the Great Hall Frosty the Snowman incident.

"Go out with the lad!" someone shouts from the bar. Another one shouts their encouragement. Toerag gets down on one knee and offers me his hand. The Three Broomsticks pub is now applauding his efforts and encouraging his behavior.

I look over at Marlene. She's laughing hysterically in her Butterbeer.

Well at least _someone_ is enjoying this!

I grab Marlene's Butterbeer and throw whatever is left on him in his metal suit.

I hope he rusts and cannot get out of that aluminum foil costume.

Marlene catches up to me after I storm out.

"You alright?"

"Can you possibly tell me what enjoyment he gets out of embarrassing me in front of multiple people?"

"Calm down! Everyone else thought that was rather sweet."

"Yes, sweet if you like the person. Not so sweet if you already have a predisposition to dislike said person."

"God, Lily, anyone else would look down at him and take his hand."

"I'm not anyone else."

We leave Hogsmeade without even visiting Honeydukes. Which is a pity.

After the day I've had I could _really_ use some chocolate.

My Knight in Shining Armor turned out to be a loser in aluminum foil.

This sucks wind.

**A/n: plz review? With sugar and candy and all that good stuff?**


	4. Perverted Statues

**A/N: Please don't hate me for not updating in about 3 months. I'm so sorry, but I've been really busy with school and I've been updating my other stories. Also, for those of you that I love so much who have taken a look at my other stories, I think that I'll actually be adding on to Lessons Learned and I just recently updated It All Happens for a Reason. Ergo my dear friends, I'm working on 3 different fics and blah blah blah. Well enough with my excuses. Here we go then. **

**In Which Hogwarts' Statues are decidedly Perverted**

Or In Which Lily Discovers what's Behind Curtain Number 1

I just got back from the oh-so-important prefect duty. You see, as a prefect you are supposed to take turns patrolling the corridors at night with one sole purpose in mind: to bust any bad guy and/or evil doer that sneaks about after curfew.

This is the point where you ask me what bad guys and/or evil doers are sneaking around the Hogwarts Castle after curfew.

Well, you'd actually be surprised. Although, the most evil activity I've actually come across was a nasty Slytherin that scared me half to death by threatening to hex me into next Tuesday if I didn't let him and his pig-faced girlfriend stay in the deserted corner of the library and finish their "business". This happened in 5th year, the first day that I was assigned to patrol keep in mind. It's not like I'm normally scared of Slytherins.

…Why are you looking at me like that? He was huge, alright! Seventh year! A Sevemth year hulking Slytherin versus a fifth year Gryffindor who is being bullied into letting them finish whatever disgusting business they came to the library for in the first place! Go ahead, Mr. I'm-So-Good-At-Gambling-That-I-Need-A-12-Step-Program, you calculate the odds!

…Alright, he wasn't in Seventh year. He was a sixth year. A very large Sixth year.

…fine, he was in my year.

…alright, he was a little younger than me…

FINE! HE WAS IN THIRD YEAR! THIRD EFFIN YEAR, ALRIGHT!

But he was quite large, I'll give him that much. I'm quite sure he was on the Quidditch Team and thus they were feeding him some type of steroid, because he looked to be at least in Fifth year.

Then again, if he was on some type of steroid, I'm not sure why he would have a girlfriend. I'm pretty sure that steroids shrink certain things, if you understand what I mean.

Although, that girl had a strong resemblance to a pig. Perhaps he was the best she could do…and vice-versa now that Mr. Third Year was on steroids. I'm assuming that he lost his appeal because even 13 year olds are not that stupid.

Gah! I must stop going off on stupid tangents like that. I'm beginning to sound as perverted as Sirius Black.

…Alright no, that's not possible. No one can be as perverted as Black. He goes to the Hospital Wing insisting that there is something wrong with him just so that he can have Madam Pomfrey, the young Healer that works in the ward, "examine" him.

Gah! There's another tangent! Bad Lily!

I swear I'm being influenced by him. It's because I end up seeing him so often due to Toerag's obsession with me. That is also extremely disturbing, I must say. I wonder when he'll get over me and understand the fact that I simply WILL NOT GO OUT WITH HIM!

The world may never know, I suppose.

Anyway, I think that on a 1-10 scale, 10 being Sirius Black level, that story about the little third year was about a 6.5 considering that it was about a person who was about 2 years younger than me (even if he didn't look it) and his pig-faced girlfriend and their sexual habits.

Okay it's probably a 7 if you want to round up.

Anyway, Dumbledore obviously believes that there actually are evil doers and bad guys lurking around the castle, and thus he sends a bunch of 15-16 year olds to catch them because he, being the headmaster, has a lot of stuff to do and is otherwise occupied.

You know what I think he does up there in his office? I think he paces.

That's literally all he does. He's got all these interesting things in there and I bet he plays with them and then after curfew I bet he paces and figures that it's his exercise for the day. After all, he's quite old and I rarely ever see him down roaming around the corridors. The most any student has ever seen him is at meal time (although we never see the Divination teacher—he says that it clouds his "inner eye" to dine with the rest of us. But I don't believe that's true—I just think that he doesn't want McGonagall bullying him all night. She's quite good at that considering that she thinks he teaches a "nonsense subject". Make no mistake, Minerva McGonagall has no time for nonsense.) and even that doesn't last long.

So you see, I think that the prefect system was set up so that he and the rest of the teachers wouldn't have to get out of their offices and patrol themselves.

All except Filch, but I'm not counting him. He actually enjoys this. This is _his_ preferred exercise while Dumbledore's is pacing and McGonagall's is transfiguring things or changing into a cat and so forth.

So today I had to patrol the third floor myself.

Fun.

Normally you're with a prefect buddy when you patrol. That's not the official term for it, but that's what I call them. Patrolling is so much more fun when you have a prefect buddy.

Although, this was my week to be buddy-less. It saddened me a bit.

I must confess, while the purpose of patrolling with or without a prefect buddy was originally to stop evil doers from…well from evil doing, it has now grown a new and more predominant purpose:

Trying to see how many people you can catch snogging in one night.

So far the record is 18. You would think that some people would have learned some self restraint. And that was set by one person!

Although, it was nearing Christmas. People tend to get a little…ahem, excited during the holiday season with the mistletoe and all of that.

Still, the record stands and no matter how much I secretly try, I am never able to beat it.

Although today was different.

I start patrolling at around 9 o'clock, and of course I was late starting off. No matter how much I try I am always about five minutes late to everything. It is a sad state that I have thrown myself in.

It didn't matter, though. I had no one to rat me out to the Head Boy/ Girl. That's the one benefit to being prefect-buddy-less—you can be late and say you weren't because no one was there to record your time.

"Late for Patrolling Duties, Evans? Tut, tut."

Except for Sirius Black.

"Bugger off, Black," was my oh-so-eloquent response. "How would you know if I was late anyway? Have you joined Potter in stalking me as well?"

"No, actually, it's just that Remus left approximately five minutes ago—the same amount of time that _you_ should have left. And seeing as that little boy has timing like my mother, which by the way is extremely accurate, you should have left with him. However, you didn't. You're five minutes late. I must say, Evans, I'm sad to see you slipping. I thought you were supposed to be on top of things like this."

"Bugger off, Black!"

"You're quite rude, you know that right?"

"To you? Yes, I'm well aware of that, thanks," I was beginning to get annoyed with the little berk who was currently wasting my time having this chat. Why was I still there? I dunno. It's quite hard to walk away from a chat with Sirius Black. He's like a freaking wizard at this stuff.

Oh ha, he is a wizard. Never mind then.

"Well you're seven minutes late now, so I suggest that you go instead of dawdling. What's the matter with you today, Evans?"

That little prick! Thanks a lot, Sirius.

So I stomped out of the Common Room in a bad mood thanks to Sirius. I don't like talking to him. It's not beneficial. I think that it would be amazingly helpful to society if he kept his mouth shut once in a while.

Ugh.

Perhaps if he stopped talking a miracle would occur—perhaps world peace would come about or maybe there would be an end to poverty in places like, oh, say Zimbabwe.

Do you see? Sirius speaking is preventing little Zimbabwe children from finding their cure to poverty. Shame on him.

The Fat Lady was another one that commented on my tardiness. Was everyone in the bloody castle checking their watches all of a sudden! So needless to say, by the time that I got to the third floor, I was in a particularly grumpy mood.

No one likes to see me grumpy. It is another thing that is non-beneficial to society.

The third floor is a rather large floor. It has many classrooms, at least 4 broom closets, and large statues that students can hide behind and the curtains by the windows are also rather long compared to the ones in the rest of the castle. I had my work cut out for me with all of the hiding places that there were on that floor.

You see, this is one of those times where I'd be glad to have a prefect-buddy.

Anyway, I set out on my duty, figuring that the sooner I checked around, the sooner I finished, which meant that I could get back to my nice, snuggly, warm dorm.

I sighed quite loudly and melodramatically. I deserved to be melodramatic, as far as I was concerned, for two reasons. Firstly because I was depressed about the Zimbabwe poverty and secondly because I was being reprimanded for being late. I am a prefect. We don't get reprimanded. We reprimand others! So you see, the system was all screwed up, which made me a little sad.

Thus, my melodramatic activity was not without cause.

Anyway, I checked behind the first few curtains and opened a few broom closets. I found one couple in the second broom closet (I wasn't aware tongues could reach that far) and told them to scamper before I took house points. They did so without argument and headed in the direction of the second floor. I didn't care, I wasn't in the mood for taking house points anyway. Too much Zimbabwe depression going on—I simply didn't have the heart to do it.

After a few more door openings and couple-scaring, I came to The Statue.

Yes. The Statue. It is a title.

The one of Gunhilda of Gosemoor. This, my friends, is where things get really interesting.

So I checked behind said statue. It's pretty large, so people could hide behind there and not be seen. When I came around the statue, I had dropped my wand accidentally. Sighing, I bent down to pick it up. And that's when I heard a voice.

Alright, before you book my room at St. Mungo's, it wasn't _that_ type of psychotic voice. It was an actual voice.

And what the voice said peeved me off.

"Damn she has a nice arse."

Um…excuse me?

I looked around the corridor to see what perv had actually had the nerve to comment on my backside while I was bending over to pick up my damn wand.

And yet I saw no one.

So then I asked in a sort of frightened whisper who was there, because I wasn't exactly sure what this pervert was capable of, you see. They could be rapists and I'd be pretty bad at defending myself.

A deeper and more gruff voice answered "It is I, the um…statue? Yeah! That's it. The Statue of Gunhilda of Gosemoor. I think you've got a nice arse."

…Alright….

I started to back away from the statue because seriously, I was a little freaked.

"What the fu—"

But before I could even get my profanity out, I tripped over the window curtain and was pretty tangled up in the red, draping fabric. However, I was not the only one in said curtain. I heard a loud "Ooof" behind me and before I knew it I was falling to the ground, and I was not alone.

So three guesses who was behind the curtain, and the first two don't count.

Yep.

"JAMES EFFIN POTTER!" I scream. Tonight was not the night to piss me off and Potter clearly didn't realize that.

"Eh…hey Lily. Um you know I was just coming to see if you were alright and then I heard the statue say that it wanted to screw you or something of the sort and I um…sprang into action!" He tried to look valiant, but he came out looking constipated.

"Are you in need of a toilet at the minute, Potter?"

James' expression faltered for a second. "No, I was trying to look brave. Didn't I—did that not come off?"

"Oh no, well done, my hero and all that," I answered dryly. Potter looked slightly embarrassed. I sat there on the stone floor for a moment, and then realized that he was sitting on my effing lap.

"Potter, as much as I enjoy you using me as a fricken chair, I suggest you get off of me unless you want your ability to have children taken away."

James blushed and got off of me, holding out his hand to help me up. I instead dropped a detention slip into his hand and got up myself. He looked down at the little pink slip.

"What's this for?" he asked, confused.

"For perving on me, pretending to be a statue whilst perving on me, and being out of bed after hours." I recited his offenses to him. He sort of gaped at me.

"You didn't give the others detentions!" he protested.

"Ah, there's another offense. Stalking. And at least they were perving on each other, not on me."

"Alright, fine, I'll make a note. Do not pretend to be a statue whilst watching Lily." He followed me as I started to walk in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room. I was through with Prefect Duties tonight. They suck.

"Make a better note: do NOT perv on Lily at all. Or stalk her. Or pretend to be a statue while stalking her."

"Will do, Lily Flower. G'night my sweet!" He turned on his heel and disappeared down a passage before I could yell at him for that stupid and unoriginal nickname.

I'm beginning to wish it _was_ the statue instead of him. They're so much easier to avoid.


	5. Crappy Pick Up Lines are Frowned Upon

**A/N: Hey all! sorry for such a late update, but here it is:**

**In Which Crappy Pick up Lines are Frowned Upon**

Or in which James Discovers it _does_ in fact hurt when you fall from high places such as heaven or, you know, the ceiling

Oh boy.

Ohhh boy.

Have I got a story for you.

Today was supposed to be a relatively uneventful day. Let me just point that out right now. RELATIVELY UNEVENTFUL.

I should have sent out memos, I really should have. I should have proclaimed it to the world that today was the day of rest. It was Sunday. Day of rest. Lily's Lazy Day. That's what it was _supposed_ to be. What is this nonsense?? Why can't I have ONE day!? WHY?! EVEN THE GOD DAMNED BIBLE PROCLAIMES IT AS THE DAY OF REST! UGH.

While we're on the subject, why does God hate me so much? Why does he curse me with so much misfortune over and over again and continue to torture me? Is it for some sick amusement? You know, it's just a query, no need to answer it right away.

He probably doesn't like me too much because I proclaimed earlier when Toerag jumped on the breakfast table and sang to the tune of Frosty the Snowman (yeah, I know you remember it, its okay. I'm learning to come face to face with the traumatizing Potter-interactions, although it might take me years of therapy and possibly a memory charm or two to fully fix my scarred memory) that I was going to become an atheist.

Um so yeah, I never realized that God bought into the whole "karma" thing. Isn't he supposed to be _all forgiving_?

I've been told lies all my life.

Anyway, I woke up today around 10:30. That was good. It started out good.

It got all screwed up there afterwards, but let's just focus for a moment on how amazing the 10:30 waking up time is because that's basically the high-point of the day. Waking up at 10:30.

That's right. That was my highlight. I woke up late.

And then I ran into Potter. And he ruins everything. No, this time actually it wasn't at breakfast where he humiliated me. Although, from past experiences with him, I imagine that the only reason is because I didn't actually _go_ to breakfast. That was smart of me.

And you know, because of the toast monsters….

So when everyone came back from breakfast, I was in the common room and then…he walks in.

No not Potter, actually. This time it was Ryan.

Ryan walks in.

Sigh.

Let me explain this. I realized that I haven't really mentioned Ryan Lianeti before because I'm busy ranting about Toerag and whatever stupid thing he's done, but I should tell you a bit about him, yeah? Ryan is in our year, Chaser for the Quidditch Team, fourth in all of his classes (only behind me, Remus, and urgh, Toerag), and he is ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS. He has brownish blonde hair, amazing blue eyes, the cutest smile…ever, and he's amazingly sweet and has the best personality. Everyone likes Ryan. Everyone includes me, if I haven't made myself clear.

Ryan Lianeti. Even the name sounds amazing. It's poetic, you know? It sounds like it could be the name of a famous artist or model or actor.

Or some good-tasting champagne.

Anyway, Ryan walks in. Yup. Ryan is going marry me by the way. He just doesn't know it yet. That's okay though. He'll find out in time.

So he sees me on the sofa, pouring over one of my books and blushing furiously (because of course I saw him out of the corner of my eye, but I kept them obediently glued to the book in front of me for fear that I would stare at him too long and scare him).

"Hey Lily!" He calls and waves. I look up and smile at him, the blush spreading. Lily. It sounds so good coming from him.

"Hey Ry," I said. Ry? Ry? Ugh, what dumb thing to call him. He's not bread, Lily! He is not rye bread, so there is no reason to be calling him Ry! Repeat after me, idiot—Ry-an. Ry-an! RY-AN!!

But thankfully he didn't care about being called Ry. He brushed his dirty blonde hair out of his bright blue eyes (sigh) and comes over to me, still smiling that smile of his.

Oh God, he's coming over, he's coming over, he's coming over.

He's over.

"Mind if I sit down?" he asks. He's cute when he asks questions.

"N-no not at all," I scoot over to make room for him and he plops down on the couch with me.

"So, I didn't see you during breakfast," he casually mentions and looks over at me. I closed the book and sort of stammer like an idiot for a minute.

"Um yeah, I woke up late and didn't feel like going."

"Oh."

We sit there in silence for a second. Ryan fidgets. I tuck my hair behind my ear about twenty times.

"So, you must be hungry then, yeah?"

Aw, he's concerned about me! "Nah, not really." And then my stomach grumbles. I blush even harder, but he laughs.

"Your cover is blown, Miss Evans," he gives me a dazzling smile. "C'mon, why don't we get something to eat?"

I checked my wrist watch. It was 11:00.

"It's 11:00."

Yeah, I said it.

He shrugs. "So?" he asks.

"Breakfast is over by now, isn't it?"

"Well yeah, but anything is accessible if you know your way around the castle." He smirks at me. I smile. I can't help smiling around him.

"What are you up to, Lianeti?" I ask coyly. He grins.

"Kitchens?"

YEAH!

"Of course."

So we walk down to the kitchens and talk about a multitude of things (that's my word of the day, by the way. Remus has a calendar of them and he informed me that it was the word of the day, so I thought it good to use it here.) It was all extremely pleasant.

Until Ryan gets to a certain subject that I can't stand.

"So what's up with you and James?"

Yeah. That one.

"Uh, no-nothing," I stammer. "Why?"

He shrugs. "Just curious. He seems to really like you."

"So it would seem," I grumble. He throws me a curious look, so I elaborate. "It's just that…well Potter's a very…deceiving person."

Ryan shrugs again. I look at him curiously. "Why do you ask anyway?"

He turned back to me, a winning smile back on his face. "Because if I were to ever ask you out I would want to make sure that nothing's going on between you and Potter," he said.

I felt myself blush. Damn you blush! "O-oh," was all I could come up with. Yeah good response, Lily, he'll REALLY want to ask you out now that knows what a conversational expert you are.

"Yeah," he continues. "Anyway, I've seen what Potter could do to anyone who asks you out without his granted permission. It's not a pretty sight."

I laugh. "It isn't his permission you should be asking," I say as I look up at him.

Ryan looks as though he's going to say something and then bites his lip. By now we've reached the portrait of the giant pear. He tickles it and it giggles and swings forward. He gestures and says "Ladies first," and I enter into the kitchens before him.

Let me focus on that for a moment. He is the absolute perfect gentlemen, which is by the way so hard to come by nowadays. Sigh. Ryan.

Anyway inside the kitchens about a dozen house elves are buzzing around trying to clean up, when one that I recognize as Peely comes over to us and bows so low that its ears flop over its face under gravitational rule.

"What can Peely get for Mr. Lianeti and Miss Evans?" She asks.

"Just bring us some breakfast, Peely," Ryan says. "Whatever's left over, we don't mind. We don't want to be any trouble."

"Oh nonsense, no no no, Miss Lily and Mr. Ryan are never trouble! Never never trouble. No, Miss Lily and Mr. Ryan deserve bestest food around! No, no, we'll prepare something special for Mr. Ryan and Miss Lily. Peely asks that you have a seat," and the elf conjures up two of the most comfortable chairs that my butt has ever graced along with a table in front of them.

Ryan and I smiled gratefully before he said, "Thanks a lot Peely, you're really helping us out a lot."

"No problem Mr. Ryan," and she scurries over to join the others.

"You seem to have a way with the house elves," I note. He shrugs and tosses his head so his hair is momentarily out of his eyes. But, seeing as he's got hair that's almost as stubborn as Toerag and Sirius', it falls back in front of them momentarily.

"I've been down here a lot," he pulls out my chair for me. See? Such a gentlemen! Sigh. I sat down in it and he pushes me in before sitting down in his own chair and continuing. "Potter and his little gang _think _that they were the first ones to figure out how to get down here. Nope. I knew about the pear trick in our second year, but they only figured it out in their third."

"Really?" I asked him. He nods and gives word of thanks to a different house elf who has brought us orange juice and toast to start off with. "Then why do you let them take the credit for it?"

He takes a bite out of his toast and a swig of orange juice before answering. "I just…didn't think it was worth fighting over. I knew I was first even though everyone would think it was the Marauders. Who cares? We both know how to get down here, and besides, the house elves like me better." He smiles jokingly, but I think that if the house elves had any sense at all they'd like him better than the Marauders any day.

"Well aren't you the adventurer."

"Oh yeah, it's a side no one's seen. The rule-abiding Ryan is just a cover." He grins. I roll my eyes.

"Boys."

"Yup," he takes a drink again. "That's why I suppose the Marauders aren't exactly your...obedient type. Nobody of the male race wants to EVER do what they're told."

Hmm. That was interesting, at least for me to find out. What about Remus, though?

No, that's a lie as well. There's a reason that Remus became a Marauder. He's just simply not as bad.

The house elves then brought us an assortment of food for breakfast—French toast with powdered sugar to top it off; pancakes and syrup; eggs (scrambled of course—I can't stand the sunny-side up stuff); bacon; sausage; home fries; muffins; bagels; and all other things that are good about beginning the day.

Go ahead, try and think of something that you don't think the house elves gave us.

Ha, nope, we had that too!

Anyway after eating half of my weight in starch and fattening substances such as pancakes, eggs, and home fries and bacon and talking to Ryan, he excused himself to go to the bathroom, leaving me alone with the elves, who kept asking me if I wanted anything else.

When he came back, I should have known right then. But I didn't. I suppose I was too busy trying not to drool over how gorgeous he was to notice.

"Ready to go?" he asked. Then he did the weirdest thing. He ran his hand through his hair in a James Potter fashion.

"Um, sure." The minute I said it, three house elves came over and cleared the table, giving us deep bows and jovial waves. Peely was with them.

"Peely wants Miss Lily and Mr. Ryan to come back soon!"

Ryan looked confused for a second and then smiled uneasily. "Yeah, we will. C'mon Evans."

Alright, so he brushed off a house elf and ran his hand through his hair and called me by my last name. But he's just acting a bit…off, right?

"So, how exactly did you manage to come across the Kitchens in the first place?" I asked him.

"The Marauders told me," he answered effortlessly, not even looking at me. I was confused.

"But you said you found it first," I said.

"Did he? That little sod! Trying to take credit for our finding. What a prick!"

Um…what?

"Are you okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, fine." He turns to me and runs his hand through his hair again. "Listen, Evans," he begins. "Whatever I told you back there about finding the kitchens is a sodding lie and he—er, I found it after the Marauders did. Comprende?"

"You speak Spanish?"

"You're really missing my point today, aren't you?" He snaps at me. Well, honestly there's no reason to get ticky at me.

"Sorry. I just never knew you spoke Spanish."

"Only a little."

"How much?"

"About two sentences worth." I laugh and roll my eyes. \

"Wow, you're amazing."

He seemed please with this. "The best around. You know, the only one that beats me out for that title though is James Potter."

"Why do you bring him up again?" I asked innocently. He got nervous and ran a hand through his hair. Again.

"Um we brought him up before?"

"Well yeah. Don't you remember?"

"Um no, I guess I don't. It's hard to remember what I say around you. You're so beautiful it takes my breath away," he says, thus making me blush about a thousand shades of red.

And that's when it all went wrong.

"Evans, did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?"

"When you fell from Heaven."

…are you kidding me?

See one pick up line would have sufficed, but no, he went for the gold star in pick up lines.

"Evans do you have a fellytone on you?"

"A what?"

"A fellytone."

He's making up words now?

"You mean a telephone?"

"Yeah!"

Okay he should have known that because he is definitely muggleborn like I am so there's really no excuse for him butchering the pronunciation of that word so terribly.

But nevertheless I answered the question.

"Um no, I don't have a telephone on me, why?"

"Because I heard heaven was missing an angel and I wanted to report you." He gives me a smile.

And then he continues.

"Hey Evans did you eat that muggle cereal for breakfast?"

"Which one?"

"Lucky Dorms?"

"…Lucky Charms?"

"Yeah that one!"

"Uh no…"

You saw what I was eating! Were you not _right there_?

"Because you're magically delicious."

Ha. Funny.

"Hey Evans,"

Okay you could have stopped at magically delicious.

"What Ryan?"

"Are you wearing space pants?"

No. No I'm really not.

"I'm not wearing pants at all, actually, I'm wearing a skirt."

Thanks for noticing.

"Well, there must be some other reason then, because your arse is OUT OF THIS WORLD!" he then proceeded to stop and bend over and CHECK OUT MY BLOODY ARSE.

"Alright what the hell is wrong with you?" I ask him, trying to shrug off the violated feeling I had.

"Nothing why do you ask?"

"Well because you're not…yourself!"

And then that's where it happened. I heard a groan come from further down the hall and I turned to look.

"Bugger!" He cursed. "Uh maybe we should get back to the Common Room, eh Evans?" He tries to grab my elbow, but I jerk it out of his grasp and go down the hall to the source of the noise.

"Oh my God." I turn the corner and what do I see?

Ryan Lianeti stumbling out of a broom closet looking extremely disheveled as if he was beaten up.

And then I turn around and who do I see?

Ryan Lianeti chasing me down the halls saying things like "Evans don't!"

And then I replay everything that happened.

And I turn on the Ryan that was chasing me and scream.

"JAMES POTTER!"

He comes to a halt and sort of grins at me as I go over to the real Ryan Lianeti and help him out of the broom closet.

"Ryan, oh my God I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine. Um listen Lily I think you're amazing and…er…before this happened we were having a great time and all, but I really don't want Potter on my arse every time I ask you to do something so I'm really sorry but…"

"Yeah. I get it. Just go to the Hospital Wing."

And that is how I lost my chances with Ryan Lianeti. Because of James Friggen Potter.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"Now, Evans, uh you know a lot of guys, Ryan included, won't brew a Polyjuice potion just to win over your affections."

The Polyjuice potion was in fact very shoddy because its effects had already worn off. He could tell that I wasn't impressed so he continued.

"Um you know if I could rearrange the alphabet I would put—"

"If you _dare_ to say 'U and I' together, I will personally rearrange something else of yours."

He understood what I was implying and his hands flew down to protect his…area.

"Now, Evans," he says as he's backing up. "I only did it because—"

"Potter?" I interrupt his babbling.

"Yeah?"

"Will it hurt?"

He smiles. "I knew you'd give in. Sirius told me this was a crazy idea! Alright I'll play along—will what hurt?"

"_Tapier Surfaciato_."

And Potter goes rigid and is body-bound to the ceiling. I was quite proud of my work, by the way.

"When you fall from the ceiling." I look up at him and put a silencing charm on him just for good measure. "You can answer my question within the next twelve to fourteen hours."

And I went.

And it's twelve to fourteen hours later and I'm sitting down in the Common Room waiting for my question to be answered.

Here he comes.

"Hello Potter," I say pleasantly.

"Hullo Evans," he answers, walking with a slight limp. I smirk.

"How was your day?"

He opens his mouth but then thinks better of what he's going to say and closes it. Then, "Any day that I can observe your arse without getting immediately slapped for it is a good day, Evans." And then he limps off to bed.

He's a perverted little shit.

**A/N: reviews are love**


	6. Lily Ponders

**In Which Lily Ponders**

Or In which Lily might just kill Toerag for being Philosophical

He has to go and do this.

He has to go and be all stupidly smart. He just has to

Why?

Because.

He's.

James.

Potter.

I don't even know what to think, right now. Actually, right now, I'm working on the new theory that thinking is bad for you.

Yeah, that's right.

Because, let's face it, if someone like James Potter is doing it, it must be harmful to society.

And since when, can I ask, does he _think? _It's simply unlike him. And believe me when I say this, James really isn't the type of person who changes. For example, I've been telling him to grow up for six years and he hasn't changed.

So…so ha!

Yeah, I laughed at you. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Nyeh.

That was me sticking my tongue out at you.

That's what that noise means. Nyeh equals me sticking my tongue out at you—you insolent little…diary book thing.

You might ask me why I'm so mature and articulate today.

Well, it's all Potter's fault.

Isn't it always?

Well, let's start from the beginning. I was having a slightly crappy day. We got the results back from that Transfiguration test—you know, the one during which Llama-bird was created—and you know, I failed. She wrote 'Very creative pictures. Has nothing to do with the topic at hand.'

So that was fun.

I mean, you know, watching my grade point average and all hopes of a decent future go down the drain, who doesn't enjoy that?

I _love_ that. I find it absolutely spiffy.

Anyway, I was sitting in the common room, staring at the essay when I find a shadow on the paper.

"Wow, would you look at that?" Sirius Black's voice came from behind me and interrupted my wallowing. "There's more red ink than black on Evans' paper!"

"Shut it, Black," I told him through clenched teeth. You see what Potter's friends do to me? They antagonize me in such a way that I actually _clench_ and or grind my teeth (something that I've been working very hard on stopping—it's terrible for the tooth enamel, you know). And I for one would like to have a decent, white smile, thanks very much.

Will Sirius allow this to happen? No, of course not. Sirius intends for me to have crappy, chipped teeth so that I will forever be doomed to smile close-lipped.

Thanks. I suppose that the fact that for the past five years I have my picture hanging up in my dentists office for Best Patient's Smile means NOTHING to you, Sirius. And I suppose that he gets pleasure out of knowing that he is inadvertently stripping me of that title. UGHH.

How does Potter hang around with Sirius and still maintain his amazingly white and perfect smile? I must make a mental note of asking him later.

Not that, you know, I think better of him for having such a good smile. But the fact of the matter is that, well, if God was personified, James would be responsible for having his smile.

Not that I'm saying that James is God or anything. He's further from it than demons are. He's further from it than _Sirius_ is. And that is saying something. He's like the Anti-God.

He just happens to have an astonishingly amazing smile.

"No, but seriously! I thought that _I _did badly! You may just make them invent another grade for that paper, Evans!"

I stared pathetically at my 'T' with the circle around it at the top right hand corner of the paper. He may as well be right about that. This test doesn't deserve a T.

This test deserves a…a Z.

Don't ask me what the Z would stand for, but it is the last and therefore lowest letter of the alphabet.

Come to think of it, I don't even think that the test deserves a Z. Perhaps if I invented my own alphabet and then thought up a new symbol. Yes, that's it. This test is so bad that I should invent my own alphabet and grade it myself.

"At least I'd be known for something," I mumbled. Because, let's face it—with a grade like this, there's _no_ way that my future would hold any promise.

"Sirius, perhaps you should leave Lily alone," the Voice of Reason said sympathetically as he placed a restraining hand on Sirius' shoulder, as though to stop him from inflicting any _more_ possible and oh-so painful truths upon me. I turned to look at Remus and smiled at him kindly.

"Thanks, Remus," I told him. He nodded and tugged slightly at Sirius, who jerked his shoulder out of Remus' grasp.

"NO! Every time I get a shit grade, she always takes the piss out on me! It's her turn," Sirius protested. I swear, that boy is a five year old trapped in a sixteen year old's body.

"I do not take the piss out on you!" I objected.

"Do so! You always look at me patronizingly and say 'Perhaps if you studied harder, Black, your future wouldn't be so dim'. Yeah! I've heard you!"

"Not once have I said that," I denied. "And anyway, I never care enough about your so-called 'dim future' to comment on it."

"Sirius, Lily's right," Remus interjected. Thank you, Voice of Reason. "She didn't say those things—Professor McGonagall did."

"Minnie?" Sirius looked heartbroken; I, on the other hand, was disturbed. "My Minnie said that?!"

"Yes," Remus confirmed solemnly.

"She has no confidence in me!? Minnie I can change!" Sirius cried—evidently to no-one. I raised my eyebrows. The dedication that Sirius has to Professor McGonagall is slightly unnerving, but one gets used to it.

"I need some air," I declared to the room as I stood up and gathered my books—and depressing test—and left the common room. Sirius waved me off—he was too distraught about McGonagall's lack of confidence in him to say anything. Remus said goodnight and went over to comfort Sirius.

I wandered aimlessly through the empty corridors (it was long after bedtime when I decided that I "needed some air" and went on this little exploration) with absolutely no conscious thought of where my feet were taking me. That was pretty stupid of me; I walked straight through the Bloody Baron and I'm pretty sure that he cursed my existence and told me that he'd be waiting for me when I die.

Oh, that's lovely. At least I have an appointment to look forward to when that morbid time approaches.

Anyway, I found myself climbing the Astronomy Tower staircase. I'm not sure what in my consciousness made me come here, but I found it strangely alluring. I looked up the winding staircase and saw the door.

The Astronomy Tower, if I haven't already explained it, is almost always occupied (if you know what I mean). You have to make an appointment with some grease-ball from Slytherin named Gary who always tries to look up your skirt when you're climbing the stairs.

Seriously, there's a sign-in sheet and everything. You need to book a time-slot for the Astronomy Tower. The sign in sheet is by the door.

Tonight, however, there was no Gary at the door. Probably because tonight was a Tuesday and Gary mostly stands guard Fridays, Saturdays and sometimes Sundays (which are the busiest three nights).

Tonight, as fate would have it, the slot was empty.

Yes!

I climbed the staircase at a quickening pace with my hands behind my back holding my skirt down (force of habit, I guess, even though Gary's not there there's always a creepy feeling when you're climbing those stairs that someone's watching you).

I reached the top and leaned against it and listened. I just wanted to make sure that no one forgot to sign-in in their rush to get up the stairs.

Nothing. I felt it was safe to open the door.

But it was occupied. A single, solitary figure stood there with his back toward me, facing the sky and leaning on the ledge and just looking out at the endless heavens.

This would be the part where I say 'Honey, I'm home'.

He turned around and smiled at me. He didn't want anything from me, and didn't even say anything. He didn't want to force a conversation between us when clearly we both just came up here to be alone. And yet, he didn't force me to stay or go. He was impassive to it.

He turned away from me and looked back up at the night sky.

I smiled back at him as a sort of…greeting and walked toward him, letting the door close softly behind me and took my place next to him. I averted my gaze to the night sky. It was always breathtaking from here—which I guess makes sense considering that we were on the top of the Astronomy tower. But mostly when people come to the astronomy tower they come with a whole different intention—and trust me, it has nothing to do with stargazing.

So I guess that when you're up here, you don't really appreciate what you're seeing.

"Beautiful night," I commented offhandedly. He made a noise that sounded like 'mhm' and put his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Did you know there are four hundred billion stars in the sky?" he asked me.

"No," I answer honestly. Imagine that. James Potter educating me. "That's fascinating."

"Mhm."

Good conversational partner, this one is.

I took my eyes off the twinkling stars and walked over to the small bench that was up against the brick wall. Just as I was about to sit down, James stopped me.

"That bench is wet," he told me without even looking over. Sometimes I think it's eerie when he does something like that. Am I really that predictable?

I didn't think so, either.

So, being the _normal_ human being I am, I leaned over to touch it. And then I heard him chuckle when my fingers were a centimeter away. It stopped me.

Was he laughing at me?

"What?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he answered, an amused look lingered on his face; but his eyes almost looked…sad. Disappointed, even.

"What?" I asked again with more force in my voice.

He exhaled heavily.

"It's just--how come whenever you tell a person that there are four hundred billion stars in the sky they believe you, but whenever you tell a person that a bench is wet, they have to touch it?"

I looked at him confused. "What's your point?"

"Think about it for a second."

And I did.

And I got it.

Stupid Potter.

"This is one of those brain teaser thingamajigs, isn't it?" I inquired.

"No, it's more like a metaphor," he replied astutely. He watched me—not in the perverted way that he normally did, but in an observant way as though I was his little science rat. I didn't understand what the metaphor was, and he could tell. "It's just…how come you don't question me when I say something like 'there are four hundred billion stars in the sky' but you have to prove something simple? Something like—a bench being wet or…" He trailed off.

"Or?" I prompted.

"Or me loving you."

It took me a second to think that through. He did have a point. I tested him on simple statements, not on complex ones. How would he know how many stars there were in the sky? Four hundred billion was a good ballpark estimate, but it was impossible to count them.

He did have a point.

And I hated him for it.

"Because it's impossible to prove the complex things," I told him. I allowed myself to smirk slightly. Ha! What do you say to that, Potter?

He looked at me with large innocent eyes that reflected the starlight. I found it hard to stare at them for too long, and I guess that he could sense it because he looked up again at the night sky. "Sometimes it's impossible to prove the simple ones too," he said more or less to the stars.

He took a few steps toward the door and gathered up his Invisibility Cloak before opening the wooden one. His hand rested on the door handle before he sighed heavily. "Sometimes you just have to trust in what someone else says, Lily," he spoke to the door handle. "Good night."

And he left.

And I stood there for a good five minutes, too dumbstruck to move.

When I finally got feeling back in my limbs, I turned to the bench before and touched it.

It was wet.


	7. Dangers of Note Passing

**A/N: I've had this chapter done and sitting in my Word document folder thingie forever…I really have no idea why I haven't uploaded it to be honest with you. It wasn't to cause you all pain, I swear. I took a little liberty with this chapter—there's a mention of Oprah. Ignore the time frame for my sake, yes?**

**In Which The Dangers of Note-Passing are Realized**

Or In Which Lily Makes a Valiant Effort to Scalp Sirius

So. After a few days to recover from the Toerag's…well you can't call it brilliance unless you're using a sarcastic tongue, but I suppose fifteen seconds of genius would be a good term—I started to figure out what I need in life.

I need to carry this damn book around more often and write in it more often. I find it relaxing. I find a lot of things relaxing, honestly, but I never have time for them but if I carry this to class and it looks like I'm actually writing notes instead of writing in a book that can act as a semi-favorable therapist.

Not that I'm saying that I need a therapist or anything.

Not that I'm saying that there's anything wrong with therapy either. If you want to go and spill your guts out to some random person, more power to you. Seriously, I couldn't do that. I'd feel so self-conscious and I'd be aware of every little thing that they do and every little reaction and I'd get this innate sense that they were judging me.

Which they are.

I'm going to shut up now.

Anyway where was I? Right, writing.

So yeah, currently I'm in History of Magic and Binns is talking about…something…. I should probably pay attention because it's probably going to be on exams and I will have no idea what he's talking about.

_Goblins of the fourth century were much more barbaric than those of the early fifth century. They used powerful magic and, though we know them to be mostly loners, traveled in packs for protection_.

Well that makes sense if a bunch of other barbaric Goblins were around that I knew about I'd get with a couple of buddies and huddle about a campfire. Alright safe to say I don't need these…

Ow. What the bloody hell, I just got hit in the face.

Potter is gesturing for the paper. Apparently Sirius' aim is off and they're passing notes as per usual.

Well. I may as well take a look…

…

OH MERLIN'S BAGGY BITS! THAT WAS…SCARRING! I'M SCARRED! MY EYES BURN FROM THE INTENSE VULGARITY OF THAT…PICTURE.

Fine. I'll send them a note back.

_You boys are utterly disgusting. _

I threw it at Potter's head. He opened it and sent me an innocent look before writing back. Oh, this'll be educational.

**Dunno what you mean, Evans. **

_You know perfectly well what I mean. 'The bloody hell do you two mean by passing porn around in the middle of class. You're disgusting. _

**Hey, I haven't even seen it yet. I am at no fault. **

_Typical response. _

I sent the grotesque picture his way.

He smiled and winked at me before opening it and grinning, pleased with himself.

Urgh.

I tried not to hurl in my mouth.

**Alright **_**now**_** I've seen the porn. **

_**And what'd you think of it? **_

**Well done, but I've seen better. **

Sirius slid the note over to me and I gaped at the new additions.

_You boys are sick. And that's not even realistic._

_**You would know. **_

Sirius snickered as he wrote this. I read it over his shoulder and promptly smacked him.

_**AH JAMES! MAKE HER STOPPP! **_

Oh yeah, I didn't _stop _smacking him….

**Nah, this is kind of fun.**

_Potter, Black, if you two insist on passing porn blatantly across a classroom intended for learning could you at LEAST not do it above my head?_

_**No can do Lilster. Quickest way to James is via the air over your red mane. And I wouldn't want to deny my buddy the best. **_

**It wasn't the best. I already said I've seen better. **

_First of all, the girl that you've drawn is unrealistic in every sense of the word. _

_**Really? Care to explain?**_

_Well, do you really think that it's possible for someone to do…that on a broom? I mean c'mon, Black, be serious._

_**I am Sirius.**_

_Really? I hate you. _

_**Feisty today, huh, Lils? Anger's very, very good looking on you. I'd be careful, I'm already turned on from my art lesson today….**_

_Would you like me to kill you? _

_**Will you spank me like a bad boy?**_

_That's it. Say goodbye to your friend, Potter, I hope that he isn't the brains of the operation._

_**NO JAMES S.O.S! SAVE OUR SIRIUS! SAVE OUR SIRIUS!**_

_**JAMES!**_

_**JAMES! WHY ARENT YOU MAKING HER STOP?!**_

**I'm sorry were those pieces of paper that were carelessly carried by the wind for me? **

_**YES YOU PONCE, GET HER OFF! NO NOT THE HAIR!**_

**Miss Evans, please remove your Tiger Lily grip from my friend's tresses?**

_NO._

_**Lily, you understand that this is NOT helping the whole 'I am turned on by your feisty attitude' thing, right? **_

_...I don't care. PAIN! PAIN TO YOU!_

_**AHHHHHH JAMES! IT HURTS EVEN THOUGH SOME MASOCHIST PART OF ME LIKES IT!**_

**Why would I stop this? It's probably one of the hottest things I've ever seen.**

…_**You're not my type….**_

**Not you, you jackass.**

…_**Suuuuure.**_

**Fine. See if I help you now. **

_**NO WAIT IM SORRY! **_

_**STOP IGNORING MY NOTES!**_

_**JAMES!**_

_**OW JAMES, SHE'S REMOVING HAIR! I'M GOING TO GO BALD!**_

_**I'M GOING TO GO BALD BEFORE PETER!! THAT'S A BLOODY CRIME AGAINST WOMEN, SEX APPEAL AND HUMANITY IN GENERAL! **_

_**JAMES DON'T DENY THE FEMALE POPULATION OF MY GOOD LOOKS AND SHAMPOO-BOUNCY HAIR! IT'S SO FRESH AND CLEAN!**_

_**JAAAAAAAAMES!**_

_**Fine. FINE! I won't be godfather to your little rumpled haired mess of a child!**_

**That's cool, I like Remus better anyway. He has more fatherly instincts. **

_**NO THAT JOB IS MINE, DAMMIT, REMUS CAN KISS MY TITS!**_

_Because we all know you have them._

_**HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT? **_

_Doing what? _

_**PULLING MY HAIR AND WRITING NOTES THAT HAVE BETTER PENMANSHIP THAN MINE! IT'S SOME INSANE WORK OF THE DEVIL! **_

_It's called multitasking. _

_**I've never heard of it. **_

_Watch Oprah._

'_**The bloody hell is an Oprah? A type of fruit? It sounds delicious. I'm hungry. When's lunch?**_

_Forget it. _

_**STOP MAKING ME TRY TO READ WHILE YOU ARE CAUSING DAMAGE TO MY SCALP! **_

_Sorry. _

_But not really. _

**Alright at some point I have to intervene. He's going to godfather my children. **

_That's wise._

_**I didn't like the condescending snort that came along with that last note, Evans. You don't think that, in the event that you and James kick the bucket, I could father your children in your absence?**_

_You, Sirius Black, will never come within fifty feet of my children if I can help it. _

_AND I WON'T HAVE THEM WITH POTTER. _

_**Took you a little long to catch that, Evans….**_

_Stop winking at me. _

_No, seriously. Stop it. You look like you have Chlamydia of the eye or something._

_Would you like me to gouge your eyes out? _

_I can do it. _

_I'm warning you, Black, do it one more time…._

_SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR EYESIGHT_

__

_**JAMES!!**_

**LILY!!**

And that's when the screaming actually started.

"GET OFF OF HIM!"

"GET OFF OF ME!"

"OW, POTTER, THAT HURTS!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry, are you alright—HEY THAT WAS PLAYING DIRTY! YOU CAN'T FAKE AN INJURY, IT'S AGAINST THE RULES!"

"WHEN DID WE ESTABLISH RULES, TOERAG!?"

"JAMES GET HER OFFFFFFF!"

"YOU'RE GONNA MAKE HIM CRY, LILY!"

"That's sort of the idea…DID YOU JUST GRAB MY BREAST!?"

"You grabbed her boob?"

"NO! SHIT! I'M SO SORRY LILY, I DIDN'T MEAN TO, I SWEAR—OWOWOWOWOWOW! LILY LET ME GO!"

"You just copped a feel in the middle of all of this? NICEEE!"

"Shut the HELL up, Sirius!"

"Thanks, man—NO LILY, IT WASN'T INTENTIONAL!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Except that last one wasn't from either of us.

And if you're thinking it was Binns, you're wrong again.

No, it was McGonagall.

...Shit.

"You three! My office! NOW!"

**X-X-X**

So it wasn't that bad. We just got a detention. I shouldn't have even had to serve it considering I was really only beating up people who fully deserved it, but McGonagall believes in…equal punishment or some crap like that.

But I have to serve it with Potter and Black.

So…great.

Juuust great.

She also warned me that I wasn't allowed to kill them or else I would be serving another detention.

And considering this is my first detention ever served—EVER—I really don't want to make a second one known to the general public. Once is quite enough, thanks.

So I'm off to serve it. This'll be fun.

**A/N: Next chapter: Lily serves detention with her two favorites. Will any of them get out alive? Yes because canon says so. But will they get out unscathed? At the mercy of Lily? Are you kidding? **


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